


Intersecting Orbits

by TriplePirouette



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Stargate Universe
Genre: Crossover, F/M, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriplePirouette/pseuds/TriplePirouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle and Rush share the pain of lost love, and pain shared is pain halved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intersecting Orbits

**Author's Note:**

> Written for WonderTwinC as part of my 100 Follower Fandom Fling based on the image above. (Image credit to WonderTwinC) Also prompted by the phrase: “You can move me if you want to.”

 

_She was, perhaps, the saddest woman he'd ever seen._

 

_Her entire body radiated hurt, from the slump of her delicate shoulders to the way she always kept her eyes down when she wasn't speaking to someone. Even her voice was always soft and withdrawn, though she didn't speak often._

 

_He watched her, watched the beauty in the blue dress as she haunted the halls of Destiny. She always drew his gaze when he was eating or working, the bright blue of her out-of-date dress enough to catch his attention in the drab ship. Her manner was so different from everyone else; she felt like an anomaly to him. He liked to study anomalies. Whenever she was in is sight line, he watched her._

 

_Because he knew sadness, too, and this was not the simple sadness of a girl who had lost her home._

 

_The was the sadness of a woman who had lost her lover and the hope of ever being whole again._

 

_So he watched her, but he never spoke to her._

* * *

 

 

He is trying to have a quiet moment alone on the observation deck when she stumbles in, running to the railing and squeezing it tight as she gasps for air in deep breaths. He can see she is willing herself not to cry, forcing her body to stop shaking and doing everything she can to take control of some internal upset. He stills, watching as she tries to calm what seems to be a panic attack. He's thinking of calling for TJ when Belle turns to the side and realizes she is not alone.

 

Her face crumples in mortification and she turns to flee.

 

“Wait!” He calls out to her, stepping forward just one small step. “I'll go if you wish.” She's stopped, just a few feet away from him. All he can see is her back as she takes deep breaths, her shoulders working. “I'll go...” He steps forward slowly, afraid to scare her just as he would be afraid to scare a young deer.

 

He moves slowly and softly, but stops just at her side. She will not look at him, but there are tears streaming down her face. He may have a reputation on this ship, but it doesn't mean he isn't human. Her pain is so physically palpable to him that he can't help but try to offer some comfort to the woman he has been watching for so long. She stares straight ahead as he stands at her side, her fingers trembling with the effort it takes to seem stoic. “Belle,” he addresses her by her name, hoping to show her that he knew who she was- that she was not just another face on this ship even if they've never spoken before now. “I will go, and I'll shut the door for you, but please...” He hesitates for just a moment, but in that second her face morphs, changes to his beautiful, departed wife and he knows he can't fail either of them. “Please, can I help?”

 

She takes a shaky breath and turns her head just enough so she can look at him from the corner of her eyes. Her voice rasps past her lips, still soft just a hair too as if she would disturb someone by being too loud. “No, you can't, but thank you for asking.”

 

Her manners are almost shocking in the situation. They seem almost regal, and it isn't hard for him to see her as a princess. Since she appeared, shaking and crying in a storage room, she has tried to be as quiet and unassuming as she could, helped when she could, and did her best to blend into the background. He finds her reluctance a shame... she might be the only person on this ship with manners. He moves to leave, then turns back to her. “I'll lock the door, as well. Only a few people on the ship know how to do it. I can't teach you how, security purposes you understand, but I can allow you a few minutes alone. When you've... when you're ready, just press the bottom three buttons from left to right twice in a row and it will unlock, alright?”

 

He's not quite sure why he's offering her this, but when he sees the the way her eyes soften with thanks, he knows he's said the right thing. He leaves, covering the pad as he enters the command, then slips out the doors just before they close.

 

If nothing else, Nicolas Rush understands the need to be alone with grief.

 

* * *

 

 

He usually sits alone at breakfast. They still haven't found a passable replacement for coffee, and the crew knows he's not exactly what they would call a morning person. He always eats his breakfast alone and in silence, the way he prefers it, then goes about his work.

 

He usually doesn't see her at this time of the morning. But this morning two, days after she ran into the observation deck crying, she's carefully taking her ration of breakfast and staring at the different tables when he sees the panic set in.

 

Her eyes meet his and before she can look away, before he can even think about it, he tips his head to the side in an invitation. A slight smile appears and disappears so fast he's not sure he's even seen it as she steps carefully over to his table. “Thank you,” she whispers, setting her metal bowl down. They have the same muck that passes for oatmeal that they've been eating for weeks, but today's surprise is tiny red berries that actually taste more like bananas.

 

“You're welcome,” he says back quietly, looking down into his dish. He does not want to be remiss in the face of such manners. In the face of possibly, miraculously, somehow making a friend.

 

He can already feel the eyes on them. Her joining him for breakfast will make the rounds on this ship faster than gate travel, and he's sure by dinner at least one person will think they're having an illicit affair.

 

Belle scrapes around the edges of her bowl, looking at it intently. “Your kindness and understanding the other day...I...” She sighs heavily, concentrating on turning the berries into a pattern. “Thank you. I can't tell you how much I appreciate that.”

 

He looks up at her, for just a beat, but she's still staring into her bowl. She has yet to eat anything. “You seemed like... like you needed to be alone. I understand that.”

 

They eat in silence for a while, the scraping of bowls and the sound of soft breathing the only noise at their table while around them quiet conversation takes place. After a few long minutes, when he's near the end of his bowl and he doesn't know how much longer he can make the food last for her sake, she looks up at him and speaks. “I lost the man I love. We... had a fight. I walked out on him, but I was going back. I was going back to tell him how much I love him and to beg him to fight for us when... when I found myself here. I've lost him forever now.”

 

Her blue eyes are bright and clear, staring at him with such hope for some kind of reaction. He doesn't know how to not let her down. He licks his lips and wrings his hands. And then he knows. He knows what to say without sounding trite or full of pity. He rests his hands on the table, fiddling with his wedding band as he talks. “I lost my wife. She was the woman who made me a better person and she died. She was very sick, and for everything I know, I had no knowledge to help cure her. She died.”

 

After a second he has to look away, lost in memories that get harder and harder to avoid as he feels more and more isolated on the ship. He remembers Gloria so vividly, his wife who had manners and a smile that blinded him like the sun and who made him so, so much better. The click of metal breaks though and he watches Belle as she clears their dishes together. When she stands he does, too, and she smiles at the gesture. She walks away with the dirty dishes and he is left standing. He can already feel the attention he doesn't want, so without waiting for her to turn back, he beats a hasty retreat to the bridge.

 

Her sadness makes so much more sense to him now.

* * *

 

They don't seek each other out, but if they happen to be in the same room, they both seem to silently understand that being together is better than them both being alone. They stick to pleasantries or mission details until one afternoon on the observation deck.

 

It's only a few seconds after they're left alone that she speaks. “You remind me of him. The way you look, even a bit of how you speak. You remind me of him.”

 

She's gazing into the stars, grasping the railing tight. It takes him a moment, but he shares, as well. His voice isn't as sure as he'd like it to be... he hasn't spoken on her in such a long time. “You don't look like her, not really. But she always said please and thank you, and could be the most polite person... I'd almost forgotten that about her. Until you.” He pauses, and hopes to cheer her up with his next words. “You have the manners of a princess.”

 

He's not sure what to do when the tears start to stream down her face so he stands next to her, staring at the stars and sharing her loss until she smiles brightly at him.

* * *

 

 

The Destiny's library isn't really much more than a spare bedroom that they've moved a few more chairs into and use to keep their small rag-tag collection of books. Rush and Belle are alone in there; he's come to see if miraculously anything new sits among the ratty paperbacks, she's curled up in a chair, reading some romance novel that one of the soldiers had stuffed in their packs.

 

She closes her book and looks up at him. He stares back, trying to decide if he should read the copy of that ridiculous vampire novel that made it's way here simply because it's the last book he hasn't read. “Do you like it?” he asks, gesturing to the book in her lap.

 

She smiles shyly, and he decides he likes the way it lights up her face. This may actually be the first time he's seen her smile. “It's... informative.” She blushes, just a little. He finds it endearing.

 

“Can't be too different. Women and men are the same everywhere, I find.” He shrugs and sits across from her.

 

She puts the book in her lap and leans on her knees, her blush giving way to a coy smirk. “I was raised a bit differently. My world was... very different from yours.”

 

For once he doesn't see reluctance in her eyes as she speaks, and it has been close to a few months since she's been here. He leans forward, his elbows on his knees, and takes the chance. “Would you tell me about it? I've read everything we've got here except this piece of tripe and I would much rather hear your story, if you're so inclined.”

 

Panic flits behind her eyes for a second. She leans back imperceptibly before settling forward. “Can we make a deal?” Belle asks carefully.

 

The corner of his mouth quirks up, liking this side of her. “I can be persuaded to talk terms, yes.”

 

What can almost be perceived as a giggle sits in her throat. “Alright. One: you must lock the door. Two: you must never tell anyone else- I fear...” She sighs, “I fear they might think me mad if they knew.” She wrings her hands together and looks at him earnestly. “And three: you must tell me your story in return, for I love true stories far better than that... rubbish.” Belle tosses the book from her lap and onto the table, the ridiculously muscled model on the cover staring at them.

 

Rush stands, wordlessly going to the door and sealing it closed. “You have my undivided attention until Young decides that he needs my undivided attention. Should we not be able to finish today, you have my word that I will keep my half of the bargain. Does that meet your terms?”

 

She releases a deep breath, like she's somehow been afraid of what his answer might be. This time, she smiles earnestly, and he doesn't like the way it makes him feel.

 

Because it makes him feel happy.

* * *

 

He watches her still, but now it is with different eyes. She was a princess. She was in love with a man who didn't love her back, and not only was she lost to him forever, she was lost in a world that she didn't understand in the slightest. It seems more a children's fairytale than a life experience, but after he's seen so many different worlds, he has no cause to even suspect she is lying.

 

Though he felt like her story made his seem awful plain in comparison, she hung on his every word as he told her about Gloria.

 

Even though he left the library alone that day, he felt less lonely. And the feeling, surprisingly, didn't go away. Watching her now, as she sits across the observation room talking with TJ quietly, he's not quite sure what they are to one another.

 

'Friend' is somehow too simple a word to convey the pain they understand in one another. He tries not to label it, because with the starlight bouncing off her lair, the feeling bubbling up in him is far to close to one that he simply does not want to admit.

* * *

 

 

He's shaken to the core. He's just watched himself die on kino footage that shouldn't exist. Somehow, in some way, they've managed to avoid this fate, but in a time line that already happened in a different universe, they didn't. And his first thought as he leaves Eli and Young to their secret little whisperings? Belle.

 

He seeks her out. She doesn't know about the kino footage, doesn't know how close they all came to dying, and she never should. But he does. He knows. An all he can think about is losing her.

 

For the first time in years, his wife isn't his first thought. His first thought is of Belle, and that scares him.

 

But so does life on Destiny. Every moment, every second they are tempting fate, and if there is a chance that she feels anything for him, anything like he feels for her, then there isn't a moment to waste.

 

Time is the one thing they've both learned not to take for granted the hard way.

 

She's standing at the railing in the observation deck and after a quick look he sees that they're alone, so he shuts the door and locks it. She spins when she hears the hiss of the gears.

 

“Nick?” she asks, her head tipped in confusion as she leans back against the rail. He loves the way his name sounds in her accent, the way it drips from her lips. No one else aboard this ship calls him that, and it's just another special thing shared between the two of them.

 

“You can move me,” he blurts out, standing still just inside the door. At her puzzled look he steps forward, his words rushing out with the adrenaline of witnessing his own death. “I never thought that I could care for someone on this ship at all. I never thought that I could care for another woman in any way that was beyond friendship, I never thought I'd see anything of value in anything but science again. Not since.. not since Gloria. And definitely not since we came to the Destiny. I was like a stone: set in my ways an immoveable. But you... you could move me if you want to. Belle...” He's desperate, stepping toward her as his words rush from his mouth, his mouth speaking as the words completely form in his mind. “Things happen on this ship every day that could result in... in loss.” He doesn't know what else to say, so he just says it again, the energy falling from his limbs, his hands flopping to his sides. “You can move me if you want to. I... I want you to.”

 

It's more of a plea than he wants it to be, but his heart feels like it might pound out of his chest as he waits for her answer.

 

Belle steps to him slowly, watching as his shoulders heave, the way his eyes crinkle with the emotions that he doesn't want to let show. She only stops when they're toe to toe, her face only a few inches from his. Her hand slides up and over the stubble on his cheek, watching him carefully as he tries so very hard not to lean into her hand, but fails. “But what would we be?” She asks gently, her own face falling into one of concern. “You are wonderful, but... you still love her, and I still love him.”

 

He wants to wipe away the pain on her face, but he feels it in his heart, too. For as much as he wants her simply lean in and kiss him, to pretend that she's not affected by the memory of her love, she isn't wrong. “I don't know,” he answers honestly. “But I watched myself die today, Belle, and all I could think about was you.” He takes her hand from his face and holds it in both of his. “When I'm not thinking of Destiny, I'm thinking of you.”

 

Hey eyes widen when he talks of his own death, but she's learned not to ask too many questions when he blurts out things she's likely not supposed to know. She lets out a shuddering breath and takes her hand from his, leaning up and kissing his forehead softly. Her voice is hoarse when she speaks, “Nick... you're not alone. Not as long as I'm here.” Belle bites her lip and steps back. She knows it's not what he wants or needs to hear, but it's all she can offer him. The pain on her face is evident before she drops her gaze to the floor. With quick steps she walks past him and keys the door open.

 

He's left staring at the stars, her heels clicking as she nearly runs down the hall.

* * *

 

She knocks on his door in the middle of the night, and even though he's mad at being woken, he invites her in. She doesn't step past the threshold. She stands, just outside the door, wringing her hands and shifting her weight. Her eyes are red-rimmed and he sees the pain in every inch of her. He's caused this, and the knowledge makes his heart skip a beat.

 

“You look like him,” she whispers, trying in vain to stop tears. “And you have a temper like him, and you do what you must, what others wish you to do, even when they think that it makes you cruel, like he did.” Her voice breaks, high pitches but as quiet as she can make it to give them some sense of privacy. “And every time I look at you, I still see him.”

 

“Belle.” He reaches out his hand to her, hoping to stem this pain that she feels.

 

She steps back out of his reach, biting her lip. “I care for you, I do. More than I thought I could when I first saw you screaming at Eli in the Gate Room. But I can't....” The next word almost pains her to say, “love you, I can't love you until I can't see him anymore when I look at you.”

 

She turns and runs, and once more he's left alone, knowing that he's somehow caused her more grief when his intention was to help them both find comfort.

* * *

They don't avoid one another, but they don't seek each other out anymore. If she happens to be alone at lunch, he'll sit with her, or he'll stand near her during a briefing if she looks particularly like she wants to disappear into the walls. He knows how she doesn't actually like to be alone, and he can at least give her the little comfort of company even if she won't do much more than exchange pleasantries with him.

* * *

 

She comes to him two months later after the team he was on was stranded on a planet for three days before Eli was able to find a way to get them back home. He's sun burnt and dehydrated (and has a few new bruises the Young was more than happy to supply) but otherwise fine when she raps on his door, calling his name frantically.

 

This time she doesn't wait for the invitation into his room, she brushes past him as soon as he opens the door. She paces as he closes it, swishing her skirts and stamping into the floor in what he can only imagine is what a princess looks like throwing a tantrum.

 

“Belle?” He waits patiently through two more laps until she finally stills, only a foot away, and stares at him.

 

Her voice is loud and clear but strained. She didn't meet him in the gate room, didn't come to the med bay, and it's obvious that she hadn't because she was crying. “You almost died.”

 

He shakes his head, trying to brush away her worry. The truth is that another day and he likely would have, but she doesn't need to know that. “Not quite but-”

 

She interrupts him, not wanting to hear anything about his time away. “You did. Look at you. We didn't know if or when or how we could get you back and...” She steps forward, fluttering her hands between them. Suddenly the anger and worry melts from her face and sadness takes over. “I still see him,” she whispers out desperately, “but you're not him. You're a different man altogether and a man that I almost lost and.. and I can't take that. I can't lose you as well.”

 

His hands find her shoulders, meaning to pull her in for a hug but she resists. She pulls away and the manic energy takes over her body again, snapping through her like a live wire. “No, no, you don't understand!” She pulls away and paces, nearly shouting now. “How can I love you the way I do if I still love him?”

 

His heart skips a beat, but he tries not to let his excitement show in the wake of her distress. His jaw works for a second, with nothing coming out, before he can whisper the only thing that comes to mind. “It's... It's possible. I know it is.”

 

A tear slips down her face as she doubles over, the pain too much for her to overcome. “But how? How can I?”

 

He nearly jogs to her side, taking her into his arms and holding her tight to his chest. “Because I still love her, but I love you too.” He lets his hand rub circles on her back, trying to coax the breath back into her. “And it's.. it's a different kind of love.”

 

She's shaking in his arms, but she doesn't push away, Instead, she grips the fabric of his military issue fatigues, her hands fisting against his chest. “My love with him was true! It was true love! How can I let that go?”

 

He can almost feel the struggle she's lived with as a palpable thing. He's come from a different world full of divorces and second and third marriages and different views on love. All Belle knows of love is that when true love is real, you must fight for it. She's never been told what to do when you lose your true love, because her world is full of Happily Ever Afters, and even if it wasn't, a young princess wasn't privy to that information. Now it's all on him. He needs to tell her what he's known all along. “You don't.”

 

She tries to pull away, but he won't let her. “But-”

 

“We don't let them go,” he whispers harshly into her hair, trying to impart how important this is through his tone. “But we don't let them stop us from being happy again, especially with whatever small happiness we can find here.”

 

She turns her head and kisses him, a hard, chaste press of desperate lips to his, and it might be the most wonderful thing about the last few years of his life that he can think of. “We don't let them stop us?” she murmurs, her lips still touching his, her heart pounding in her chest.

 

“No,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing her softly this time, his hand coming to her jaw to slow her frantic need as his other hand circles her waist. He pulls back and rests his forehead against hers. “They loved what we loved, and I love you.” He goes to kiss her again, but Belle tips away, laughing into his shoulder. “What? What did I say?”

 

Through her giggles she wraps her arms around him, holding him tight. “Rum most certainly did not love what I loved- and he would have turned you into a snail for even looking at me twice.” She still sniffles, but she's relaxed somewhat in his arms.

 

He scoffs, a tiny smile playing at his lips as his hand runs through her hair. “A snail?”

 

Belle tucks her head beneath his chin and he's stunned at the way she calmly seems to recall her former love, the fight and need having left her after their kiss. “Or a flower. He turned my former fiance into a rose.”

 

“I'm very glad he's not currently here, then.” Though the words are meant in jest, he worries as soon as they leave his lips. Yet, amazingly, she laughs again.

 

“If he were here,” she whispers softly, “You would most certainly be a snail.” She sighs, “But he can't be. He can't be here.” He feels her chest heave just a little and she holds him tighter. “But I have you now, Nick. He... he sent me from his home to be happy and I think... I think that I owe it to him to try.”

 

He doesn't tell her that somehow she's managed to find a bruise and is currently pressing quite heavily on it. No, he can handle a little bit of pain. He presses his lips to her hair. “You owe it to yourself, too.”

 

She leans back, pulling her hand away from his bruised rib to wipe at her eyes. She smiles up at him, as much as she can through the emotional turmoil that still rages within her. “No, I think we both owe it to ourselves. I owe it to Rum as much as you owe it to Gloria.” Her brow creases and her hand, still moist from her tears, slips up to cradle his chin. “You, you more than anyone on this ship, Nick, are owed love.”

 

Her eyes bore into him, strong and serious and so very worried about him that he can't help but kiss her again, taking her lips with more fervor than even he is ready for, his tongue slipping between her lips and his teeth nipping as he pulls away. It leaves her dazed but she smiles a small, happy little curve of her lips.

 

He thinks back to her first few days on the ship: the way she curved in on herself, the sadness in her eyes, the need she had to simply disappear into the walls of the ship with her confusion and loss. Before him is a completely different woman, swaying gently in his embrace as she looks at him. He has, somehow, moved her. He has helped her change to the woman before him.

 

And she has moved him.

 

“Together” is a concept that Rush hasn't really thought about on Destiny- even with how much they needed him to run the ship, he always had a vague feeling of being on the outside of everything. With Belle, he wasn't alone anymore.

 

And with him, neither was she. 


End file.
